Real Love
by beatlesandgleelove124
Summary: Collab w/ Beatlesfan93. What could a tabloid journalist, a personal assistant and a math teacher possibly have in common? Their relationships to the members of the world's most famous band. Follow Sheryl, Beverly, and Charlotte's stories in Real Love.
1. Chapter 1

A young blond sat on the porch swing in front of her London home. She lazily let her feet drag along the smooth white deck and read another book as she waited for her boyfriend to pick her up for work. He had insisted, and Beverly Kemp wasn't about to let that opportunity pass up. She wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

She heard his car horn and stood up, waving to the man in the car that had come to pick her up. She could dimly see his hand waving back and opened the car door. "'ello, love." Paul McCartney kissed his girlfriend's cheek and started up the car. They drove to EMI studios in absolute silence, save for one conversation that lasted less than a minute. "How's the day gonna be today, Bevvie?"

Beverly pulled out her small event notebook for work and said, "I guess we're recording the whole album today, honey." Paul looked at the road ahead and said, "Can't wait." Beverly laughed and saw Paul's face quickly brighten.

It was cold and cloudy on that February morning of 1963, as Paul got out of the car first, holding up a finger to tell Beverly to stay in her seat. He exited first and went around the car to open the door for her. "Oooh, a gentleman…" she giggled into the palm of her hand. Paul held out his hand and gently helped her out of the car. He moved her out of the way before slamming the door and walking into EMI, hand-in-hand.

"Ah, Paul, Beverly, you're here on time. Paul, why don't you go practice? I need to talk to Beverly about something," Brian said. Paul gave Beverly one last kiss on the lips before letting her go. Beverly followed Brian into the other room and asked, "Something wrong, Mr. Epstein?" Brian said, "No, nothing's wrong. In fact, that's why I asked to see you. Whatever you're doing, keep it up. All four boys have been in more control since you arrived. Probably don't want to look bad in front of a flawless woman like you, right?"

She blushed, mumbling, "I have plenty." Brian said, "I also want to ask you not to take anything they say seriously. This is going to take a while, Beverly. And they'll, I'm sure, get cranky." She nodded and said, "I won't, Mr. Epstein, I promise." Brian smiled.

The two walked back to see that Ringo and George had arrived, and the only one missing was John. "Where is he? Try calling his house, Beverly." Beverly grabbed the phone and dialed John Lennon's house number. After four rings, a groggily voice answered, "Hello?" Beverly covered the transmitter with her hand and mouthed the words, "He's at home," to Brian and George.

Her attention went back to John as she asked, "Where the hell are you? It's almost nine-thirty and we need you here!" Suddenly, John asked, "_We _or _I_?" Beverly scoffed, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? John, you're in a band and you need to be here to record _Please Please Me_." John began to sound a little angry, "Well, I wouldn't want to get anyone sick! That's right Bev. I have a cold. What's Brian gonna say about that, huh?" She placed her hand on the transmitter again and said, "He claims to have a bad cold."

Brian said, "Let him think he's in the clear, then go get him."

Beverly said into the phone, "Okay John. See you tomorrow. Bye." She hung up the phone and walked over to Paul, "Paul I need to go get John. Apparently he has a cold. Can I borrow the keys?"

* * *

><p>Beverly knocked on John's door. He answered in his pajamas: a T-shirt and boxers. "Whoa, get some clothes on man." She teasingly looked away. He pulled her inside the house and asked, "Beverly, what the fuck are you doing here?"<p>

Beverly teased, "Poor Johnny's got to get to work. Brian says." He roughly sighed and rolled his eyes, "Who cares what Brian says? Besides I have that cold." Beverly glared and said, "We've been putting this schedule off too many times. C'mon go get ready, I'll drive."

When she returned to the studio with John (fully clothed) Beverly looked at the clock, "Well, it's just a little past ten. Nothing to worry about." She took his hand and dragged him inside, where Brian looked furious. She walked in with John as Brian scolded him, "You were almost late! Thank God Beverly was here."

John sighed and said, "I'm sorry, I told you I have a cold." Brian rolled his eyes and said, "Stop with the lies, John." John sighed and looked over at Beverly. Beverly, not wanting to see him so angry at Brian, saved him and said, "Well, I checked his forehead. He is pretty warm."

Brian sighed and said, "Just don't breathe on the boys, alright?" John thanked her with his dark brown eyes.

Beverly looked down and walked away, over to George Martin. John walked into the studio and began tuning his guitar, ignoring the scolds from Paul. And the day began recording their album.

* * *

><p>At around 8:00, the only song that was left was John covering "Twist and Shout." John had taken off his shirt and gave the okay symbol. But Beverly said, "Wait!" She ran over to the fridge and found the milk and a glass.<strong> (I don't care if there wasn't a fridge. They're cool enough to have one in there.)<strong> She poured the milk in the glass and handed it to John, "Drink this."

John complained, "No, but I don't want milk. I want beer!" She gave him a death glare, "Drink it. It'll help with the cold." He downed it in one swig. Then she dropped two strawberry cough drops in his open palm. When he wouldn't put them in his mouth, she pushed his hand in a closing motion and held it shut. She awkwardly slipped her hand away and walked back over to George and Brian, holding her face in one hand as the song began:

_Well, shake it up, baby, now, (shake it up, baby)_  
><em>Twist and shout. (Twist and shout)<em>  
><em>C'mon c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby, now, (come on baby)<em>  
><em>Come on and work it on out. (Work it on out)<em>

_Well, work it on out, honey. (Work it on out)_  
><em>You know you look so good. (Look so good)<em>  
><em>You know you got me goin, now, (got me goin)<em>  
><em>Just like I knew you would. (Like I knew you would, ooh!)<em>

_Well, shake it up, baby, now, (shake it up, baby)_  
><em>Twist and shout. (Twist and shout)<em>  
><em>C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby, now, (come on baby)<em>  
><em>Come on and work it all out. (Work it all out, ooh!)<em>

_You know you're a twisty little girl, (twist little girl)_  
><em>you know you twist so fine. (Twist so fine)<em>  
><em>Come on and twist a little closer, now, (twist a little closer)<em>  
><em>and let me know that you're mine. (Know you're mine woo<em>

_Ahhhhhhhhhh... Ahhhhhhhhhh… Ahhhhhhhhhh… Ahhhhhhhhhhh… Ahhhhh… Ahhhhh… Whoa, Yeah_

_Well, shake it up, baby, now, (shake it up, baby)_  
><em>Twist and shout. (Twist and shout)<em>  
><em>Cmon, cmon, cmon, cmon, baby, now, (come on baby)<em>  
><em>Come on and work it on out. (Work it on out, woo!)<em>

_You know you're a twisty little girl, (twist little girl)_  
><em>you know you twist so fine. (Twist so fine)<em>  
><em>Come on and twist a little closer, now, (twist a little closer)<em>  
><em>and let me know that you're mine. (Let me know you're mine, woo!)<em>

_Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now... (Shake it up baby)_  
><em>Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (Shake it up baby)<em>  
><em>Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (Shake it up baby)<em>  
><em>Ahhhhhhhhhh… Ahhhhhhhhhh… Ahhhhhhhhhh… Ah!<em>

John pulled the guitar off of his head. "Don't just stand there, help him!" Brian said. Paul ran to get more milk and George and Ringo fished through Beverly's purse for more cough drops. Beverly and Brian ran towards John and handed him everything. "Oh, God I shouldn't have teased you about the cold before. Sorry John."

John's hand touched Beverly's, and Beverly took it, stroking it with her thumb. Paul returned with another glass and handed it to John. Beverly grabbed another cough drop from her purse and put it in his mouth. She asked, "How's your throat?"

"It's like sandpaper, Bev!" She led him to a chair and looked at Brian. "I think this is all we can do, Beverly. I'll go call Cynthia." And Brian left, leaving Beverly and John alone. "Beverly, while we're here, I need to tell you something. Be careful of Paul, okay?" Beverly asked, "What? Why?" John said, "Paul's used to getting what he wants." She placed her hands on her hips and looked at him, "Hmm… I've happened to hear the same thing about you, Mr. Lennon. So I wouldn't be one to judge anyone."

"I'm only sayin', Bev." She grabbed her coat and pulled it on over her work clothes. She dashed out before he could say anything more.

* * *

><p><strong>1953<strong>

_Thirteen-year-old Richard Starkey hated hospitals. He despised lying in the hard, uncomfortable bed all day and night, not doing anything. But hating hospitals changed whenever Charlotte Ramsey visited. It had been a normal Sunday morning for Richard, simply thinking about when he was going to get out of the place, when a knock on the door brought Ringo out of his wondering pool of thoughts. _

_Richard looked over to his door, where the soft knock came from. There was a little girl, around ten or eleven, with auburn hair and light brown eyes. Her widened eyes showed a shy and nervous glint. Her lips were straight, as if she had no emotion. She wore a white dress and black Mary Janes on her feet. "Can I come in?" she asked, her skin sporting a furious red. He nodded, replying to her bashful question, "Sure." She walked over to Richard's bed and pushed herself up onto it. Richard just looked at her blankly, wondering what she was doing. "I'm Charlotte. Charlotte Ramsey. Who're you?" He stuttered out, "Ri-Richard Starkey." _

_She laughed and said, "Me little sister 'as cancer. 'er name's Megan." Richard said, "I have chronic pleurisy." She jumped off the bed, as if it had burned her. "Is it contagious?" He nodded, "I think you can catch an infection from it." She frowned and said, "I'm sorry." He looked her over again. He replied, "It's not yer fault. Ya didn't give it to me. Say Charlotte, why aren't ya with yer sister?" She replied sheepishly, "I'm sorta scared to see 'er. She looks so sad and weak."_

_"Does she? If you're scare to see 'er, aren't you scared to see me?" Charlotte took a seat in one of the chairs next to the door. She shook her head and replied, "No, not really, probably cause me little sister 'ad cancer since she was four. Now she's seven. And I know she's probably gonna die." Richard frowned at the girl. "Don' say that. Ya never know. She may just get out of it alive." _

_S__he whined depressingly, "After three years?" Richard, heart torn in two after seeing the little girl upset, nodded, "It doesn't matter how long. She still could. Things change, Charlotte." Charlotte smiled, "That means _you'll_ get out of this too, right?" Richard nodded. "Thanks, Richard." She didn't smile, however, for her face had contorted into a phased, concentrating stare, "You have the prettiest eyes."_

_Richard, shocked by the compliment, felt his body heat rise and his cheeks begin to burn. Charlotte giggled, obviously entertained by the older boy's embarrassment. She then dropped the conversation about their personal lives and started learning about each other, like how old they were, when their birthdays were, and their favorites. _

_It felt like they'd talked for hours, until worried cries filled the hallway, "Charlotte? Charlotte? CHARLOTTE?" Charlotte frowned and said, "I have to go. That's me mum. But I'll see you again. Your room number's easy to remember. Besides, it's the room right next to my sister's. We're visiting next week." She walked into the hallway, and could just hear the words, "Bye Charlotte."_

**June 1963**

"Charlotte? Charlotte?" Charlotte zapped back to the little tea shop in London and looked up at Pete Best. "What? What?" She looked down at her left hand, to the big sapphire ring on her finger. Her eyes then traveled to the light blue ones of her fiancée as he asked, "Are you okay? You seem tense, worried, honey." Charlotte sighed and put her tea down, "I'm fine, Peter. I've jus' been thinking a lot…" Pete pressed on, "About…" Not wanting to bring up Richard, she said, "Our—our wedding! I've been planning my dress in my head." Pete put his hand on hers soothingly, stroking it with his thumb.

They finished their tea in silence and left after paying. They strolled down the streets of London together, fingers entwined until they reached Pete's car. Pete drove Charlotte to St. Augustine's and kissed her goodbye in the parking lot. She exited the car and began her work day.

"Does anyone have any questions?" She asked, referring to the process multiplying and dividing integers. However, the bell rang before any questions could be asked. It was her last class of the day, and Pete should be picking her up soon. She waited outside the school yard, the wind blowing in her face as she sat in wait for Pete's car to come pulling up. When it did, Pete took an alternate route and asked Charlotte, "Do you remember my drumming days?"

She nodded, looking ahead at the road in front of them. "Do you want to invite them to the wedding?"

* * *

><p>Britney Anderson was a sassy blonde who strutted around the entire building with half her top unbuttoned. Her best friend was a girl named Mae Ross, a fiery redhead who loved changing her shoes each hour and had the IQ of a rock. Everybody who worked at "The Global" had absolutely no idea why or how they were hired by Mr. Fredericks, but there was one thing for sure:<p>

They were annoying as hell.

And why were they annoying as hell? Because all they talked about while they were at work was The Beatles. That new band that was sweeping England. She really had no idea what the big deal was, because they were simply four guys who wanted to be famous. All she heard coming from Britney and Mae's mouths were: "I love Paul!" and "George and I are gonna get married one day!"

Britney and Mae strutted around the office one day; you guessed it, talking about the Beatles. "I can't believe they're so close! We need to get an interview from them!" Mae, fixing her hair in the mirror, replied, "I know, right? I mean we are the best magazine in London!"

"Keep dreaming, this place is almost done." Sheryl Greeves wasn't loved by anyone in the "Global" building, but she sure was ignored by Britney and Mae, though they were all Mr. Frederick's secretaries. Britney and Mae earned raises when they wrote one word on a piece of paper. Sheryl, however, was the black sheep of the office. She was ignored by Britney and Mae when they came into work 2 hours late, whilst Sheryl had been there for four. She was only seen to them as the girl with the black hair and her back turned to them.

"Oh, what's-her-name, I almost forgot. Mr. Fredericks. He wants you in his office." Sheryl stood up from the typewriter and thought in her head; _please tell me it's a promotion..._

She slowly walked over to the dark wooden door with the words E. Fredericks on it. She gently tapped on the door.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Fredericks?" Sheryl slowly creaked open her boss' door. He was smoking a cigar, and the tension in the room made her feel like she was a Hollywood starlet in a 1920s movie. But she was far from Hollywood, living in a two-bedroom apartment in London. Mr. Fredericks didn't look up from a stack of papers and said, "Yes, yes… Sheryl. I have to ask your help."

She entered the room, twiddling her thumbs nervously. Maybe she was going to get the promotion she worked for all month. "You see, Greeves, I need to ask you a favor. This magazine is close to going out-of-business, and I need a scandalous story on those Beatle boys all the girls are so in love with."

Sheryl asked, "Sure, Mr. Fredericks. But, how do I do it?" Mr. Fredericks replied, smashing his fist on the desk. "I don't care how you do it! You get me this story in a month or less, and I'll give a big smacking promotion! Ya hear me, a promotion!" Sheryl smiled and nodded, "I'll do it! For the smacking promotion!" Sheryl tried his excited and angry dialogue, though it didn't fit. She inched out of the office and drove home bopping her head to old 50s songs.

Then something hit her bumper.

* * *

><p><strong>What do you guys think? Let me know how much you liked it? Good... Bad... Not that Bad... Not that Good... Too Mary Sue-ish? What?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! Now it's time to post my first chapter of this story. I hope you enjoyed the previous one by Beatlesandgleelove124, and that you are ready for Chapter 2, written by me.****  
>- Beatlesfan93<br>**

"You guys did great today." Beverly said, as she kicked off her high heeled shoes, and fell back on the couch in Paul McCartney's living room. Over the last couple of months, she had spent a lot of time there, and she had begun to feel like home.

"Do you think so?" Paul asked, as he poured Beverly a glass of red wine. She had a sip of wine, and nodded enthusiastically.

"Even the last song? I keep worrying about that one."

"Don't. It's going to be really cool. Trust me."

"I always trust pretty secretaries." Paul said, and grinned. "Personal assistant" Beverly corrected.

"Oooh, excuse me Miss important" Paul teased, as he sat down next to her on the couch, "It's pretty wild, isn't it? I mean us, four simple lads from Liverpool, recording an album in a fancy London studio. It's all we ever dreamt about."  
>"You deserve it." Beverly said. "You have worked very hard for it."<p>

Paul nodded, and his thoughts went to the jobs in Hamburg, where they had played for endless hours, in scruffy, smoky clubs. It had finally taken them somewhere. They sipped at their glasses of wine in silence for a while. Beverly loved sitting there with Paul's arm around her shoulder, and just breathing in the smell of him; cigarettes and after shave. Suddenly, Paul reached over and gently stroked away a lock of Beverly's hair.

She turned towards him, and looked deep into his hazel eyes. There was almost as if a fire were lit inside of her, and she eagerly kissed him back when he leaned over and brushed his lips against hers. The kisses grew stronger, and Beverly could feel Paul's hands all over her body. He started unbuttoning her shirt, and she didn't try to stop him. She reached out to unbutton his pants, when he suddenly pushed her away. It looked as if he had just realized what was about to happen.

"Paul, what's wrong?" Beverly asked.

"I'm sorry Bevvie." He mumbled. "I just think we should slow down a bit. We can't get too carried away. We have to be careful. Take all the precautions."

"Of course," Beverly said, "We'll do that. Don't worry." A grin spread across her face. "On the other hand, you do look mighty cute when you worry too much." She kissed him gently on the mouth. "We can be careful. We have been together for more than two months now. Don't you think it's about time?"

Paul looked at her for a moment. Then he got up, and grabbed her hand. "I sure as hell think it's about time." He said, and kissed her again, holding her as close to himself as possible. She was all his, and nobody was going to take that away from him.

* * *

><p>"Pete! It's wonderful to see you!" Charlotte watched as Mona Best wrapped her arms around her son.<br>Mona's eyes narrowed, as she let go of Pete to get a proper look at him. "You look skinny," she remarked. "Do you eat?"

"Of course I do mum." Pete said. Charlotte had to keep herself from giggling by the way her fiancée suddenly sounded more like a schoolboy, than a grown man of nearly 22.

Mona looked over Pete's shoulder, and noticed Charlotte. "You must be Charlotte!" she exclaimed. "It's nice to finally meet you. Look at you! You're beautiful. I can't believe that my Pete has brought home this lovely young lady."

"Mum!" Pete hissed.

"Come on in both of you. I have made us some tea. And I made Pete's favorite cake." Charlotte followed Mona and Pete into the house. Mona showed them into the living room, where they sat down in the sofa. The coffee-table was set with porcelain and fresh flowers.

Pete poured them tea, and Charlotte turned to Mona. "It's so nice to meet you Mrs. Best…" she started, but was quickly interrupted by Mona. "Oh, silly. Call me Mona. Everyone else does."

"All right, then." Charlotte smiled. "Mona. Peter has been telling me so much about you."  
>"Peter?" Mona said with a laugh. "My, I don't believe anyone has ever called him that since primary school."<p>

"Mum." Pete said again, and sent a knowing glance in his mother's direction.

"Anyway." Mona said. "I must say, I was quite surprised to hear about the wedding. It's so soon."  
>Pete smiled. "We didn't want to wait any longer than necessary." He said.<p>

"Are you pregnant?" Charlotte had just taken a sip of tea, and Mona's question came so sudden, and was so unexpected, that she nearly choked on it.

Charlotte coughed, and tried to regain her composure before she answered. "No. I'm certainly not pregnant. We just want to get married as soon as possible." She said, and reached out to grab Pete's hand. "Because we love each other so much."

They drank tea, and ate cake and talked about the wedding. There were so many things that had to be planned, and Pete's mum was eager to help out. Charlotte had heard stories from some of her friends who were married, about future mothers-in-law who completely ruled the wedding-planning. She didn't hope her future mother-in-law would be like that. She loved Pete, but that didn't mean that she had to love his mother.

Charlotte looked around the living room. It was quite a small room, but it was comfortable and cozy with lace curtains and wall-paper with little rosebuds on it. On the mantelpiece and in the shelves, were different photos in frames. Charlotte saw one of a little boy in an overall playing in a garden.

She got up to look at it. "Is that Peter?" she asked. "Oh, darling you were so sweet." Mona smiled. "My Pete was always such a sweet boy." She said.  
>Mona walked over and pointed out a picture to Charlotte. "This is Pete and his brother playing in the garden." She said. "And this is his first day at school."<p>

"You know, I have some albums somewhere with more pictures." Mona said. "I'll go and get them."  
>"You don't have to do that." Pete hurriedly protested. "I'm sure Charlotte doesn't want to look at a bunch of old pictures."<p>

"Nonsense." Mona said. "I'll be right back." She walked out of the living room, leaving Charlotte and Pete by themselves.

"This is so embarrassing." Pete mumbled. Charlotte laughed, and walked back over to the sofa.  
>"I think it's funny." She said. "You were a sweet child."<p>

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Pete asked, and pulled Charlotte down on the sofa. "Don't you think I'm sweet now?" he asked, and kissed her.

Mona walked back into the room and, embarrassed, Charlotte and Pete pulled away from each other.  
>"You won't believe what I found, Pete." Mona said, enthusiastically. "I had forgotten where I put them. Pictures from the club."<p>

Charlotte looked at the black and white photos of a younger Pete, behind the drums. She instantly recognized the others as well. The Beatles. They were famous now. For a moment she felt a sting of the bitterness Pete obviously had to feel. He had been so close to being a part of their success. So close.

"Look, it's "Rory Storm and the Hurricanes." Mona said. Charlotte looked at the picture. There he was. The drummer. Richard. She had been thinking a lot about him the last couple of days. Ever since Pete had suggested that they'd invite his old band mates to the wedding. It was just silly. She had known him when she was a girl. That was all. She was a woman now. Engaged to be married.

Suddenly it became difficult to breath. Charlotte got up. "Excuse me." She mumbled. "I don't feel so good. I think I need a bit of fresh air."

She hurried out of the house, and leaned against the front porch railing. She wasn't surprised when Pete came after her.

"Charlotte is everything all right?" he asked. Charlotte nodded, but didn't turn to face him. "Now you've really made my mother believe that you're pregnant." Pete said. Charlotte turned towards him and forced a smile. "I'm just tired." She said.

Pete came closer. "I think you worry too much about the wedding." He said. "I know those things are important to you girls, but don't wear yourself completely out, do you hear me? I don't care about the flowers or the cake or even the dress, as long as I get what I really want. I want you."

He put his arms around her, and she put her head on his chest. Charlotte desperately wanted to feel happy and content, in the arms of the man she was going to marry. But something in her subconscious was nagging her, and she had no idea how to make it stop.

* * *

><p>Sheryl didn't know for sure, but she thought she heard herself scream. She had been so busy thinking over the task she had been given by Mr. Fredericks, that she hadn't noticed that the car in front of her stopped at a red-light. Sheryl was driving at a quite low speed, but there was still a loud crash.<p>

The car seemed to be an almost brand-new, white Mini Cooper, and she saw the driver getting out.  
>Sheryl started shivering. What had she done? She took a deep breath, and got out of the car. "I'm so sorry sir!" she called out. "I didn't pay attention, I…"<p>

She stopped and stood mesmerized as she recognized him. It couldn't be. The man in the suit right there in front of her, was George Harrison. Lead guitarist of the Beatles.

"Oh my God, you're him." She burst out. To her surprise, George blushed. "I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"

George nodded. "I'm fine." He said. "But may I suggest that you look on the road ahead of you the next time you drive?"

Sheryl didn't know if he was joking or not. He didn't look angry, but he didn't smile either. "I'm so sorry." She said again. "I'll pay for all the damages, I promise." Sheryl felt her heart sank as she said those last words. She was already behind on the rent. The repairs of the car were going to cost a lot of money. Money she didn't have.

"I'm sure we'll work all that out."George said. "You look a bit shaken." He added. "Would you like to go and grab a cup of coffee with me?"

"Are you inviting me out for coffee, after I almost trashed your brand new car?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yes." George said. "It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone. Come on. I know a place we can go. Besides, I think we're blocking the street. Just follow me. But try and keep a distance this time." He was definitely joking now, Sheryl decided, as George smiled at her.

She got back in her car, and followed George's Mini Cooper with the big dent in the bumper. He pulled up in the parking lot in front of a café. Sheryl nervously parked the car, and got out. She followed George inside, and they sat down at a table in the corner. There weren't a lot of other customers, just an old man sitting at a table at the other side of the room.

A young girl in an apron came to take their orders. Both George and Sheryl were quiet as they waited for the waitress to come back with the coffee.

When she did, she smiled shyly at George, and asked for his autograph. He just smiled back at her, asked her what her name was, and scribbled his name down at the piece of paper she held out to him. The girl thanked him and walked away with a big grin on her face.

Sheryl drank a bit of her coffee, and stared thoughtfully at George. "How is it like to be famous?" She asked.

"Do you want to know the truth?" George said. "It's just like before, except that people know my name before I introduce myself. Speaking of names, I don't know yours yet."

Sheryl smiled. "I guess that means I'm not famous then." She smiled when he did. "I'm Sheryl."

"And what do you do, Sheryl?"

"I…uh, I work in an office." She said. She didn't have a particular urge to tell him that it was the office of a tabloid magazine. "My boss was nagging me today as usual. I was thinking about that when I hit you."

"I'm sorry that your boss is such an idiot."

"Wait a minute. You're sorry? I'm the one who should be sorry here. I trashed your car, remember?"  
>"Stop talking about that," George said, "It doesn't matter. Tell me something nice instead. Maybe something about yourself. Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend?"<p>

Sheryl shook her head. "I live alone. I have a cat. And before you ask, I have been in a relationship. I'm not some loony spinster who is incapable of having a relationship with anyone but her cat."

"I wasn't planning on asking about that." George said. "But now I now. Good." His face was completely motionless, and Sheryl couldn't keep herself from laughing. Soon after, George started laughing too.

They continued talking as they drank up their coffee, then paid the waitress, and walked out of the café.

"Thanks for the coffee." Sheryl said. "It was great."  
>"Would you like to do it some other time?" George asked.<br>Sheryl nodded. "That would be nice."  
>"Great!" George got a pen out of his pocket, and scribbled a phone number on a piece of paper. He handed it over to her. "Just give me a call."<p>

Sheryl smiled. "I will." She said, and turned to get back in her car. "Sheryl?" She turned around to look at George.

"Yes?"

"This is going to sound strange, but I'm glad you drove into my car." Sheryl smiled to herself, as she backed out of the parking lot. She was glad too. This was almost too good to be true. For the first time, that promotion she needed so bad seemed within reach.

**A/N: Okay! That was it for now. I have never written a chapter this long before. New personal record. Haha. So, what do you guys think?**


End file.
